Reading the Beats
by mackerel sky
Summary: Ryan & Sandy talk about Sandy's new job.


Disclaimer: These are not my characters.

One morning, when Ryan is alone in the kitchen eating cereal and browsing through the sports section, Sandy comes in looking for a brief. They have spoken very little since he took the new job. In fact, neither Sandy nor Kirsten has been home much. Their perfect family unit is either less perfect than Ryan initially thought or, since his arrival, fracturing. Because he does not believe in coincidence, he feels responsible. Certainly, he feels less close to Sandy. He would like to say something, to clear the air, but he has no idea how to begin. 

"Ryan! You're up early."

"Hey. Checking on the Lakers. Been surfing?"

"Just got back. You should come out. Any morning. Seth hates it. Although he's actually pretty good. It's not that different from skateboarding… Have you seen--- There it is…" He flips through a stack of legal pages.

"How's the new job?"

"More or less what I expected. Plus a lot of red tape. But I think I'm going to be taking a case for a woman in Norco who--- What?"

Ryan shrugs. "Nothing. That's great. A woman in Norco who what?"

"This is about my not being a public defender anymore. Isn't it?"

"What is?"

"You. Us. You've barely spoken to me since I took this job."

Ryan looks startled.

"You think I sold out."

"No, I… It sounds like you're doing a lot of the same stuff you did before, so it's…good."

"No it doesn't. It sounds like I've sold out and gone to a place where I wear thousand-dollar suits and protect people like Jimmy Cooper, who probably have a far more stunted sense of morality than, for instance, your father, who was driven to do what he did out of need."

"I did not say any of that."

"But I know you're thinking it. It's okay, Ryan. We should talk about it." He thinks for a minute. "Let me try and put this in perspective for you. Why did you take that job at the Crab Shack?"

"What?"

"The restaurant. Why did you take the job?"

"To make money?"

"Sure. But Kirsten and I can pay for everything you need right now. And Seth would obviously prefer it if you were available twenty-four/seven. So. Why?"

"Did Seth say some---"

"Ryan. No. He didn't. And it's good for him not to be completely dependent on you. No. What I'm talking about is your decision. Why did you make it?"

"It doesn't seem right, expecting you to pay for everything. I mean, you're already doing more than enough."

"Ah. It doesn't seem right. Why not? I mean, technically, it's not a hardship for us. Why not just spread the wealth. Give you a little more free time. Keep the grease out of your hair. I mean, how would you feel if I told you it makes zero difference to us whether you work or not?"

"I guess it makes a difference to me."

"Of course it does. It's independence. It's power."

"I don't know about power."

"Sure it is. If you want to buy a video game and I give you the money and I ask you what game you're buying, do you have to tell me what it is?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Say I disapprove of it. Say I think it's too violent, or too, who knows, X-rated. Do you still buy it?"

Ryan says nothing.

"Whereas, if it's your money that you've made from work that you've done, I can't say a damn thing about how you spend it. Can I?"

"I guess not?"

"Well, I can, obviously, because you're a minor. But I think you're following the larger point here."

"You took the job so you wouldn't have to live off of Kirsten's money?"

Sandy watches him intently, says, "Yes."

"But that's crazy. I mean, not crazy, but you guys are so…you're like, on the same page about everything."

"Are we?"

"Aren't you?"

"I think it was starting to feel a little too much like her page."

Ryan suddenly remembers Sandy sitting across the table from him in juvie after the fire, saying, in response to Ryan's despair at having no one to collect him, "Ryan. You know if I could…" He looks at Sandy now and says, "Yeah. I get that."

"People talk about the high price of ideals. And you picture them struggling for funding, drinking bad coffee out of chipped mugs under naked bulbs in makeshift walk-up offices at three in the morning with all their doctorates in a pile on the floor." Ryan is listening closely, waiting for Sandy's point. "But that's the easy part. Physical discomfort, tying yourself to redwoods, picketing in the pouring rain. It's noble. Crazy, but still, at the end of the day, it's intellectually respectable. You feel proud of yourself." Sandy stops. Then he says, "You can take that for granted, Ryan. You can forget that it's possible to lose that."

After a while, Ryan asks, "So what's the hard part?"

"Admitting to yourself that your ideals have turned into a hobby. A redemption for someone else's lifestyle. A sop for your own wavering sense of yourself."

"Wow."

"Yeah. Wow."

"So is this…solving the problem?"

"Changing the problem."

"Well, but you're still a lawyer, right? So if you pick the stuff you want to do…" he trails off.

"Pro bono work. I'm going to be able to do more this way, help more people, that's why I took it. Most of why. I'd be lying if I said it was the only reason."

They are silent for a few minutes. 

Then Sandy says, "Be careful when you make decisions, Ryan. Taking yourself seriously is…expensive. Personal freedom is expensive. Any kind of freedom is expensive. Not in dollars but mentally, emotionally. If you think you aren't paying for it, you're probably missing something."

Ryan nods, thinking he already knows exactly how expensive freedom is.

Sandy says, "Although, I may be talking to the wrong sixteen-year-old. Failing to take things seriously is really not one of your problems."

There is a very long pause. Sandy can see Ryan winding himself up to talk. He sets his papers on the counter and sits down.

Ryan says, "When I was going to run away… I was going to go to Austin. One of my mom's ex-boyfriends works construction down there. I figured I could do that."

Sandy nods.

"I told Seth, he was going to get me the ticket, and Marissa… Their favorite book is _On the Road_. Both of them. And the thing is, that guy was a college student. At Columbia. And his mother was crazy about him. He could always go home."

Sandy almost speaks and then waits.

"What you were doing before, what you did for me… You actually know how it is. All the kids selling drugs, doing drugs, beating people up, turning tricks, getting shot. I know Kerouac's life was messed up. And depressing. Some of those guys were insane. But they left this version of it that's romantic. So people who don't know figure it isn't that bad or it's bad but glamorous. Like, people without money are free. And the thing is, being poor, being angry, being scared… Those kids aren't free. They need help."

"And you think I should keep helping them."

"I think someone should."

"I had no idea you read the Beats."

"Yeah. Not really. I like Gary Snyder."

Sandy's eyebrows rise slightly. "The Zen poet?"

"Of those guys. That's not really the point."

"No. I… I'm just surprised."

"That kids from Chino read poetry?"

"Ryan."

"Sorry."

Sandy sighs. "Back in college I thought I could save the world. Later I narrowed it down to California, southern California, teenaged offenders in southern California..."

"And now?"

"Now I'm bargaining. I will be able to help the people I want to help, more people than I could before, but it's going to be more political. I'm also gambling. I may be able to make bigger changes, have some policy impact, but I may not. I don't know yet. What I do know is that I'm not just playing at it, living here, surfing, coasting. I give up some purity but I gain some power. "

"Yeah. Okay. I can see that."

"Can you?"

"Yeah. I just… Yeah."

"Good." 

Ryan nods, looks at Sandy for a minute, looks away.

"But? What else is bothering you?"

"It's just," Ryan gestures at the room around them. "All this. Not everyone gets to get lucky. I'm not sure why it's me."

"Maybe it's you for a reason. Maybe it's you because you feel like this and now you'll have the opportunity to go on to do something to make it better."

"Like you have."

"Does this mean you're still counting me on the side of the right?"

"Yeah." Ryan smiles. "I am."

"Okay then. Yes. Like me."

They grin at each other and then Ryan says, "So tell me about this case you might take. For that woman in Norco." And Sandy picks up one of his folders and spreads out some papers on the table and starts to explain the case.


End file.
